


Multiplication Errors

by Dame_Syrup (mary_pseud)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Cake, Kinkmeme, M/M, M/M/M, Sex Under Duress, TARDISes (cameo), artificial eyes, cyborg, exterminate, sex with yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_pseud/pseuds/Dame_Syrup
Summary: For the kinkmeme prompt: Four/Five/Six- Davros captures them and forces them to have sex in order to humiliate them... it backfires.





	Multiplication Errors

Davros rolled into the holding cell, and his vision implant scanned his three captives. Three men, but one man: the Doctor, Davros' most constant nemesis, in three different cycles of his life. All gathered here, at Davros' secret asteroid base.

He flexed the fingers of his sole hand, imaging how it would feel to rip the secrets of the alien's regeneration abilities from him. But first – first, he needed something from them – from him.

"I require information," he rasped.

"Oh really?" The tall Doctor slumped on a steel bench, pouting. "And what? You'll torture me if I don't give it?"

"Oh no, Doctor. I have a far more subtle plan for your submission to me. The information I require will need to be – double-checked, by these two." A twitch of one hand indicated the blond Doctor and the round Doctor. "Therefore, I require each of you to be – obedient."

"Obedient?" The round Doctor arched his eyebrows. "Not likely."

Two Daleks entered the cell behind Davros and took up their station, menacing the prisoners.

"You will remove your clothing," Davros ordered.

"I really don't think this coat will look good on you at all, Davros," the blond Doctor suggested, fingering his beige garment.

"Remove your clothing or-"

"-you will be exterminated," the three Doctors finished in unison. With only a few grumbled protests, they stripped off, leaving their clothes in a muddle of colours and textures in the middle of the cell.

Davros regarded them coldly, as befitted three experimental subjects. Now that they were naked, he could begin the conditioning process.

"My study of non-Kaled inferior life forms indicates that many of them find same-sex sexual contact a profoundly humiliating experience."

All three of the Doctors immediately started refuting him, all at once, in a gabble of words. "Only for certain-" "-fostering of children-" "-valued fighters-" "-evolution of enlightened standards-"

"SILENCE!"

The three Doctors silenced themselves.

"Now. I order you to have sexual relation with one another. All of you!"

The tall Doctor gasped, and put his hand to his mouth. "Oh, no, Davros! Please! Anything but that!"

"That's unspeakable, Davros!" the blond Doctor seethed.

"What a revolting prospect," said the round Doctor, in a tone just a shade off in sincerity. Davros pivoted to regard him, and he promptly put on a disgusted face. "No, really!"

"You will do as I command!"

"Well, once more into the breeches, I suppose," said the round Doctor.

"Not wearing any breeches," said the blond Doctor, squatting and then lying down on the floor in a languid pose. He raised a slim hand to the tall Doctor, who took it with an anguished expression.

"Oh, if there only was some other alternative," he said, kneeling and kissing his blond self while stroking his erection to greater enthusiasm.

"I quite agree," said the round Doctor, before rolling onto his stomach with a swift move and burying his face in the prone Doctor's crotch.

Davros gloated, watching, waiting for the three men (who were actually one man) to finally break and shatter under the knowledge of the sexual perversities he was forcing them to engage in.

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, Davros was still waiting. His aged face could not move or show emotion, but his hand tapped at his life-support chair in a slowly increasing rhythm of impatience.

The captives paid no attention to him: instead they went right on sucking, and licking, and humping, and rubbing, and penetrating, and being penetrated, and kissing, and-

"Enough," Davros finally grated.

The captives paused from a long moment. The round Doctor swallowed, and said, "Oh, are you sure of that Davros? Because I'm quite certain that in an hour or two-"

"Or three," chimed in the tall Doctor, his hair frizzled with sweat.

"Or perhaps four or five, we'll be quite obedient. Completely."

Davros just sat there, his hand tapping.

"Absolutely broken to your will, as it were. Little shards of broken Doctor, all over the place. Any hour now," the blond Doctor said, flexing his surprisingly broad shoulders for a moment as though to work out a cramp.

Davros growled, "I have of course been recording this session-"

"Oh, well don't show it to us," interrupted the tall Doctor. "That would be really dreadful!"

"-and while I analyse the results, I will perhaps arrange for you to have some company that will motivate you to submit more eagerly." Davros spun on his axis and rolled out of the room, followed by the two Daleks, and the door shut.

The round Doctor considered whether he should put on some clothing; the blond Doctor scratched an itch, and the tall Doctor reached to help the blond Doctor with that itch, only to get his hand slapped.

Then the door opened. The figure that entered was slim, dressed in sober military black jodhpurs and jacket. His head was lowered, and they could only see the top of his head, and his glossy dark brown hair.

"Nyder?" whispered the tall Doctor.

The man raised his head. It was Nyder.

He had no eyes. Cold silver spheres sat in his sockets where eyes had been, and a rather large biomechanical prosthesis implanted into one side of his chest made it clear to what lengths Davros had gone to resurrect his most faithful servant.

Nyder stared at them, with his not-eyes framed by glasses that probably served no function, and said in a voice that had a hint of a slur in it, "I have been ordered to motivate you."

"And how do you think you'll do that?" challenged the blond Doctor.

Nyder just stood and stared, unblinking. Apparently he had nothing left to blink with.

"I suppose that Davros wants you to motivate us?" said the tall Doctor, rising and sitting on the metal bench, totally at his ease clad only in a dazzling smile. "Tell me, Nyder, what do you want?"

Nyder paused for a moment too long, and when he spoke his voice was huskier. "I want...not to be alone."

"Oh really, that doesn't sound much like you, Nyder." The round Doctor frowned.

"You never struck me as much of a social butterfly," the blond Doctor added.

"I am – the last." Nyder shuffled across the cell, his feet barely leaving the ground, and stared down at the seated Doctor. "Davros and I – we are the last, the last Kaleds. The last of our species in the universe."

Nyder's face had always been cold; now it was the bleached white of death, his lips faintly blue. Only his voice had any emotion to it, and that emotion was pain. "And between us, we aren't even one whole man. When I, when I – disobey - "

All of the Doctors shot quick glances at each other; disobedience in Nyder?

"-when I disobey, Davros leaves me alone. All alone."

"You know, Commander, there are places where you wouldn't have to be alone," the round Doctor proposed cautiously. "I could introduce you to people who could make sure you always had company."

"Oh?" Nyder turned on one heel, too slowly, and looked at the speaker. "And what would you want from me in return for this – companionship?"

"Oh, a kind word in the right aural implant-"

"-a quick verbal diagramme of the way back to our TARDISes-"

"-and a chance to escape." The tall Doctor finished the statement, and they all waited breathlessly to see what Nyder would reply.

"Davros would never let me escape. Never."

"Nonsense, nonsense! All you need to do is to get him to fire you, you see? Believe me, Nyder, we've studied the man over several lifetimes, and you've only had, er, one and a half maybe?" The round Doctor stood and threw a friendly arm around Nyder's shoulders, ignoring the sweat that left on the black uniform. The other Doctors approached as well, and they formed a circle.

"Now here's what we are going to do..." and Nyder listened.

 

* * *

 

Davros was looking for his prisoners. He assumed that Nyder had moved them to another area of the facility, but there was no trace of them in the interrogation rooms, or in Nyder's quarters, or in the laboratories.

Davros kept looking. He had annexed this asteroid from a group of settlers, so there were many rooms that were of no use to him. He could of course ask his Daleks and they could tell him in an instant, but – he was uneasy that he was unable to predict what Nyder had done. Sometimes he almost regretted resurrecting the man; the damage to his system had been extensive, and the side effects were not always easily charted.

He finally found his Commander, and the three prisoners, in the barely used kitchen.

He saw the round Doctor first; he was seated on the floor, dressed in his peculiar garb again, and was enthusiastically eating something that looked like a block of solidified mud.

"This is nothing like choc'late cake, Davros, but it's quite marvellous!" he enthused. "Your Nyder is a talented man, to have cooked this up."

Davros moved forward, and the rest of the tableau slammed into his mind.

The round Doctor was barefoot, and his feet were twining around a pair of slim male feet. Commander Nyder's feet. Nyder was stretched out on the floor, with the other two prisoners, and his mouth...and his hands were...

It was his hands that Davros focussed on, those slim scarred fingers that had touched every relay on Davros' chair, scrubbed every inch of his remaining epidermis, held papers and charts and tools for him. Now they were smeared with some paste, and they were---he was---

Davros' vision strobed as he frantically rebooted his vision implant, but it was all still there, still horrible-

"OUT! GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" he screamed at the top of his plastic lungs.

"Thank you, sir," Nyder said, springing to his feet with more than a touch of his living litheness, and slipping out of the kitchen. The three Doctors rose and ran after him.

"Stop him! STOP THEM! ALL DALEK UNITS! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

 

* * *

The four escapees slid to a halt in front of three tall blue boxes – the TARDISes.

"Right, who's taking Nyder?" asked the tall Doctor.

"Don't leave me," said Nyder, his voice on the brink of cracking. "You promised-"

"Right, on the count of" a screech of 'EXTERMINATE' sounded in the distance, "on the count of one then?"

The tall Doctor held out a flat hand; so did the blond Doctor. The round Doctor held out two spread fingers. "Scissors cut paper. Commander, follow me!"

And they went.

"Now then," said the round Doctor, after the TARDIS had taken off, "let's set course for Arx, shall we? There's a nice race of artificials there, who love nothing more than genetic extrapolation. They'll be more than happy to do a study of your recessive genes, fill in any blank spots, warm up the cloning vats, and before you know it, you'll have a dozen not-quite-identical brothers. And sisters, if you'd like."

"But they'll be children-"

"Oh no, they'll be full grown right out of the vats! And with an implant of your memories of course; can't let the last living Kaled native speaker get rusty," the Doctor chuckled. To himself, he wondered what weaknesses in the Kaled genes might be found – and exploited – in the endless war against the Daleks, but then he put that thought aside. The Arxii would be gentle with Nyder; they owed the Doctor a favour or two.

"Brothers. With my memories. Won't that be, what is the word, _incest_?" Nyder frowned at the Doctor, his sockets clenching around his vision implants.

"Believe me, Commander," the Doctor patted his bare hand, "once you've had sex with yourself, you'll never want to go back. Now, let's go find you something to wear on your feet. And perhaps you would be so kind as to step into the TARDIS kitchen, and try to recreate that cake of yours....?"

**Author's Note:**

> Davros wouldn't call the various incarnations Four, Five and Six, obviously. So I needed a one-word tag that applied to Six, but not Four, and would work even with his clothes off. Therefore Four was tall, Five was blond (I considered 'the Thal-looking Doctor' but that was too long) and Six was round. He does have that lovely round bum! 
> 
> I could have really confused the audience by just calling Six 'the cute Doctor.'


End file.
